


A Midwinter Night's Dream

by Grain_Crain



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Childhood, Christmas, Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21689425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grain_Crain/pseuds/Grain_Crain
Summary: Sledge tells of a childhood dream and Smoke wants to make it come true.
Relationships: Seamus "Sledge" Cowden/James "Smoke" Porter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	A Midwinter Night's Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, it's been a year since the last Siegemas event. It's no surprise that I'm partaking this year as well! Come and have a look at what other writers are working on for the [Siegemas 2019](https://dualrainbow.tumblr.com/post/189401654378/siegemas-2019-siege-ons-greetings)!  
> The prompt that I worked on is:   
> “Who walks on an ice covered pond anymore? Don’t you know how stupid that is? You should’ve died in that pond. Natural selection.”

If clouds are cotton candy, then snow may as well be icing sugar; sifting down from the sky. What’s more fascinating than seeing the outdoor covered in gleaming white? The crunching texture under foot. Wonders of dipping gloved hands on a supple surface, and how the dents stay as if you are messing with freshly whipped cream. You can lay on a seamless silver surfaces of a frozen lake and pretend to be a gingerbread man on a tray. Winter wonderland leaves an ever-lasting impression to those who’re lucky enough to spend their childhood in a colder climate.

Of course, this all changes within time. A sense of magic dissipates when you discover what snow really is; ice particles that fall from above. A few hours gives you some cute layer that's still manageable and fun, but half a day is a different story. One must pry themselves away from the cozy warmth and wield a shovel to clear the driveway. People get creative and make snowmen or igloos, but that gets old pretty quickly when jaws start to jitter. Sleets are some darn right ugly hazards when tainted grey, and guess what? It only gets harder in the military.

See, the deployment area must be available at all times. As in squeaky neat and clean for emergencies. Dokkaebi once mentioned that Korean soldiers call snow a 'white trash' in a very literal sense, but she refrains from using the term to avoid misunderstandings. Smoke didn’t mind though, for he agrees with the connotation behind the phrase. 

"Fucking white rubbish," Smoke mutters and it sounds a little better in British tongue, "Don't tell me it'll snow the whole day."

"Apparently there'll be a blizzard tonight." Mute remembers the forecast and that nearly has Smoke breaking his shovel in half.

"Why does it have to be this week? Why do we even have a daily roster for this kind of shite?”

“Because Mike saw what the Russians did with those snow mountains.” Sledge recalls the monstrous quality that Spetsnaz team displayed last week. All five of them moved in intervals of three hours and it took about half an hour to scrape the pavements bare. Not a trace of dirt or moisture, and they don’t even set the snow aside to make a pile. Scoops full of icy flurries are dumped into a humongous pot, and that’s how they secure hot water to boil eggs or soak their cold hands. The rest is flushed down the sink and _хоросо!_ Jobs well done. Thatcher was highly impressed and fawned over their robotic efficiency, hence he demands the same for his teammates.

“But where is he? Don’t tell me he’s all too high and mighty to put dirt on his hands.” Smoke continues to complain and loiter around. 

“He’ll be here soon. Get working before you get told off.” Mute chides.

“As if I give a flying fuck.” Smoke spits back but obliges to do as told. Not out of respect or courtesy; Smoke chooses menial labour over an hour long lecture from their old geezer of a leader.

“Don’t be so dramatic, James. It’s not that bad,” Sledge pats on a mount that he’s been piling on, “Kinda gives me a flashback of my childhood.”

“What, were you raised by some grouchy fossil?” Smoke is eager to hear. He pretends to keep his hands busy for the time being. 

“No. But I remember staying at my uncle’s farm house. We had a paddock and a large field, and I used to stroll out if there was nothing else to do.” Sledge narrates a scenery and makes it easy to imagine a stocky child striding against the soft white blanket that laid thick on a meadow. 

“Your parents just let you be?” Mute squints in disbelief.

“Well, things were safer back then. And I didn’t want them to find out my secret.” He found it on the outskirts of a nearby forest. A quaint empty space surrounded by frost cloaked pine trees.

“Ooh, secret! Bet it was a stash of porn magazines.” Smoke hints at his own mischievous juvenility.

“I was only nine at the time, if you must know. Not everyone’s a naughty horndog like you,” Sledge lay a playful smack on his lover’s back, “So the secret! It’s not that special, you see? Not a gobsmacker.”

“What was it?”

A smile shines like a beacon, “A small pond. Frigid and solid- it felt like standing on a dark-coloured mirror.” He describes the reflection of his own image, a staredown between him and an imaginary doppelganger that’s trapped under the thick icy slab, “I fell in love with it.”

“Did a kelpie pull you in?” Smoke chuckles.

“James, not funny.” And Mute scowls.

“No. Even if it did, I don’t think they would like a child that stinks of horse shit.” Sledge continues the story and now they’re up to the part where he stole a couple of knives and gumboots from his uncle’s shed. Young Seamus sneaked out early in the morning with his make-shift bladed shoes, hoping he can do the things that he saw from the television. That’s how he begun ice skating and spent the first two weeks suffering from sore bottoms. 

“Can you still skate?” Smoke’s eyes sparkle with intense curiosity.

“I think so. Might have gone for Olympics if I had more time, or if I was allowed to practise at all,” They are aware of Sledge’s long family tradition of military service, “I could only do it in the morning and didn’t want to raise suspicions. But that was the first and last winter for me to skate.” 

“What, why?” Smoke is quick to react.

“Well, I had a sudden growth spurt over the year. I ate and slept like a hungry caterpillar, then one day my pyjamas felt too tight.” He gained six kilograms and almost ten centimetres. His parents said it runs in the family, “So when I went back to the same pond a year later, it couldn’t hold my weight.” 

“You fell in!” A gasp that almost sounds too enthusiastic. Smoke readjusts himself and wraps an arm around those broad shoulders, “Were you alright?”

“Yeah, of course! Sneaked into a bathtub and cranked up the hot water tab. That didn’t stop me from getting a nasty cold, but hey. It was worth it.” Sledge let out an empty laugh and rubs behind his neck. 

“You could’ve gone to an ice rink after being enlisted. You know, as a holiday hobby.” Mute kicks on the pebble beneath his feet.

“It’s not the same. There were too many people bumping into me and it felt cramped,” He sighs and briefly lowers his head. The descriptions of how he bathed in bitter pine scent. His ankles barely moved, and yet his entire body glided effortlessly on the smooth plain. Seamus felt like a fish in a bowl that spun in circles. He was free within the boundaries, a lone glacial particle dancing in the air. He stops the daydream and perks up within a second, “Alright. Enough being gloomy. It wasn’t the end of the world and I had plenty of sugary biscuits with my other relatives.” 

“Boo. You’re a bore.” Smoke sneers while reaching down his pocket for a cigarette.

“Don’t you dare! You promised to quit it for good.” Sledge is eager to lighten up the mood by clinging onto his boyfriend. They wrestle and wriggle, but the victor is always someone who’s stronger.

Mute calls out, “Pass it,” And Sledge tosses. Before Smoke can break off from Sledge’s bear grip, Mute empties the packet of Marlborough into a soggy slush. 

“Smoke can’t ‘smoke’ anymore.” Sledge chuckles and Mute follows. Smoke would have held his annoyance a little longer and join in the laughter, but he freezes on spot upon seeing Thatcher storming towards them. Here comes the hail.

* * *

At some point during mid-December, Smoke’s attitude towards the snow had completely changed. Less more complaints and whining. He became the first one to notice faint speckles outside and readily picks up the shovel without having to drag him out. When the temperature hits newest of low, Smoke screams at everybody to wear nice and warm. Mute isn’t happy to have his job taken away, but Sledge welcomes the change. For one, Thatcher stopped growling at them for being slack. They still can’t beat the Russians or even win against the in-depth experiences of Canadians, and yet Smoke’s eagerness acts as a good moral among those who comes from warmer climate. If the residential goofball is willing to stay motivated, it gives the impression that perhaps the snow-removal job isn’t as daunting or rigorous. 

Although there’s a small change. He leaves the base more often than not, especially on those days that can instantly freeze a tap water. It’s usually some time between lunch and sunset, and he returns while wearing an extra layer of coat that’s meant to be a ‘spare,’ as he said.

“Where have you been?” Sledge sees a tinge of blue on those lips he kisses every night. He reaches out to pull in for a warm hug, but Smoke backs away.

“Was out for a drink, darl. Here’s some for you.” Smoke holds a breath while straining to pull out a large keg. 

“Let me help.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” With a loud thud, it’s placed between them. Smoke flashes the usual cheeky grin, and yet Sledge feels like he shouldn’t walk past the keg. It’s as if there’s an invisible line, an unseen rift that’s drawn upon.

Sledge can’t help but to worry, “Are you sure?” 

“Hundred percent sure. I’d never lie to you.” Smoke huffs defiantly.

“Alright. Just don’t get up to any mischief.” Despite the urge to press the subject, Sledge decides to drop it. There must be a reason behind Smoke’s odd behaviour and he trusts the man to be honest when the time is right.

“I can’t promise you that,” A brief pause, then another stiff smile, “But I’ll tell you soon on Christmas day.”

They part ways, but Sledge is put off by what Smoke has just said. _What can’t he promise? What is Smoke planning?_ Speculations turn into anxiety. Lies and truths don't matter if they aren't being said at all. Knowing that Smoke is intentionally accident prone, Sledge decides to follow out the next time. It hurts his conscience but he's rather have his boyfriend alive to enjoy the seasonal festive together.

Five days before Christmas. Smoke asks Mute to cover for him in case of urgency. The younger teammate scowls, "Again?"

Smoke holds Mute's hands and leaves a fifty pound note in the least secretive way possible, "Love you, mate. See you all later!" And hurries to leave.

"See you soon." Sledge nods but keeps his eyes on the man. As soon as Smoke vanishes within his sight, Sledge eagerly chases after him. Down the corridor and to the garage, Smoke unlocks the utility truck and jumps in. It's a miracle that Sledge manages to hide his ogre of a physique, or Smoke is plain oblivious to his surroundings. _Should Sledge wait and get on a different car to follow?_ None of the cars have chains on their tires, so that might be a challenge on its own. _He could sneak onto the truck._ The truck bed is hastily covered in plastic sheet, so what are the odds that he'll get found out?

The drive is only a few kilometers, but that's the longest twenty minutes of icy torture that Sledge's had experienced so far. He thought the plastic sheet will keep some heat under, and yet the stinging gust seeped through the fabric and his skin. In the midst of feverish shiver, Sledge realises that the truck has stopped. He hears the rustling leaves, and follows crunching snow from footsteps next to him.

“Alrighty. Here we go.” Smoke mumbles and the truck sways a little. Sledge recognises the click of a car door being open, and the truck lifts slightly when Smoke grunts. Footsteps starts to fade, so Sledge finally peeks out to see where they are.

A vast blank canvas blinds him for a moment, then he notices patches of trees here and there. He can only assume they are somewhere out in the snow field near a forest, and there’s also a large flat surface that’s mostly coloured in translucent grey. Smoke, who’s standing on the edge with two bags on his sides, begins to walk towards the surface in tiny baby steps. 

“No-” Sledge realises what’s happening in front of him. Smoke is walking on a frozen pond; he might be literally walking on thin ice! For whatever inspired Smoke to act like a daredevil, Sledge doesn’t care. He stumbles out of the truck bed and curses the stiff, cold joints that makes him fall. There may be bruises all over his knees but he just must sprint towards the idiot of a partner.

“Stop!” Sledge roars but wind blows against him, "James! James Porter, stop!" He rushes to get closer and finally catches Smoke's attention. Their eyes are met, to which Smoke averts in a split second as he tries to step back. He then slips, lands on his side and breaks the ice with a thundering crack. Sledge sees water spurting beneath Smoke and the way he sinks in, "NO!"

Smoke let go of the bags and spreads his arms out to reach for a steady ground. He manages to snag a twig, and a shard of ice. His leg also on wraps around the edge of icy pool. They soon notice how Smoke is neither sinking or drowning, all thanks to the sheer luck and coincidence.

"Holy shit," Smoke coughs out a laugh, "Who knew this one is fragile as well?"

"As well? _As well?_ " Sledge pulls him up, "Is this what you've been doing the whole time? Dipping yourself into ice water?"

"Hold up. I can explain." Smoke struggles to hold a balance as he leans towards the bags he had to let go. 

Sledge tugs harshly, “Who walks on an ice covered pond anymore? Don’t you know how stupid that is? You should’ve died in that pond. Natural selection!”

"Now hold on! I said I can explain," Smoke sighs. His intentions are pure and noble as he wanted to deliver the childhood experience that Sledge reminisced. Christmas should be all about magic and love, so why not reenect the special moment that's been kept precious in his lover's heart? 

"That's still stupid. What if the water's deeper than what you think?" Sledge berates himself for mentioning it at all.

“If I die by reliving a precious childhood memory of someone I love to death, then so fucking be it,” Smoke is dead serious, but he refrains when Sledge deepens the frown, "But that won't happen. See? I've got the life jacket on. Just relax." 

Sledge is still baffled at Smoke for saying such irresponsible thing, but then those eyes aren't shaken with guilt or uncertainty. Smoke is staring back as if he has justice in what could've been life threatening. What brash bravado. And he still loves this fool of a genius. 

"I'm still mad at you," Sledge doesn't pull or tug. He wraps his arms around the other man for a gentle hug, "But thank you for trying. I didn't know this is something that I haven't given up on."

"Hey, I'm your favourite man-child. Of course I know what you want."

They chuckle in unison and decides to leave before the inevitable flu visits them, "What's those bags are for?" Sledge can't help but to wonder.

"Dumbbells. Each got ten kilos so I can match up to your weight now. Smart, huh?" 

Sledge squints and pinches on the bridge of his nose, "No, not at all." 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> 군대=army  
> 하얀=white  
> 쓰레기=trash  
> [Hence here's the result if you type '군대 하얀쓰레기' on Google.](https://cdn.gamemeca.com/gmdata/0000/037/512/111209_ksjj_001.jpg)!  
> 


End file.
